


Seven Flowers

by korvidae



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: AU - Chapter 3 Only, Agni Kai (Avatar), Alcohol, Angst, Ba Sing Se, Comics Referenced, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fall Maiko Week 2020, First Kiss, Gen, Illness & Injury, Maikoween 2020, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Southern Water Tribe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korvidae/pseuds/korvidae
Summary: A collection of oneshots in honor of Fall Maiko Week 2020 💐
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bumi II & Izumi (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 147
Collections: Fall Maiko Week 2020





	1. Primula, for youth

**Author's Note:**

> A flower and a story for each prompt of Fall Maiko Week 2020. Check each chapter for a summary and any relevant warnings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Childhood  
> Mai says goodbye to the banished prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the first Agni Kai and before Zuko leaves for his banishment.  
> (Content warning: mention of injury and medical settings).

For most, it was difficult to say when the innocence of childhood ended, and the understanding of maturity began. For Mai, that moment in her life was easy to locate; in fact, she could pin-point it down to the hour.

An Agni Kai, especially one involving a member of the royal family, was hardly an event to be missed. When the news spread that Prince Zuko had accepted the challenge, anyone with a connection to the palace vied for access to the arena. Mai’s _shurikenjutsu_ instructor made a point of bringing her. It was to be _educational_ , he had told her.

And when Mai saw the look of shock on Zuko’s face when he turned to face his father, a feeling of confused disbelief came over her.

And when Zuko refused to fight back, and bowed before his father crying, Mai began to feel sick.

And when Fire Lord Ozai burned his son, right there in front of everyone, Mai felt as if the floor come out from underneath her. Her eyes stung with horrified tears, but she kept her eyes forward, frightened of appearing weak in front of her instructor. Though she never tore her eyes away from where Prince Zuko kneeled, even minutes later she could not remember what she had seen.

She could, however, remember the smell.

* * *

The first days that followed were grim.

By nightfall, Zuko’s condition was worsening. The next morning, the palace decreed Zuko’s banishment with the unspoken caveat of “ _if he survives_ ” hanging heavily in the air.

News came out of the palace in drips. They said he would never see out of his left eye again. His left ear might never hear.

Mai sat through lessons in a daze. She refused dinner and cried herself to sleep.

The next day, Azula casually mentioned his condition had gotten worse. He had a high fever. It looked like he wasn’t going to make it.

All visitors were refused while he fought an infection. Two dozen doctors and herbalists cycled their way in and out of his rooms.

Someone in the palace had been appointed to make funeral arrangements, just in case.

Mai didn’t cry on the second night. She didn’t sleep, either.

On the third day, Mai was shaken out of her fugue by the news that General Iroh had been in to see Zuko, and that afterward he seemed to be in good spirits.

Zuko was getting better.

Mai had to see him.

* * *

After her parents had gone to bed, Mai put her plan into action.

About a year prior, Azula had snuck out of the palace to see her when she had been grounded. Mai took careful note of what Azula was saying while she bragged about how she pulled it off, and she was thankful for that, now.

Wrapping herself in a black traveling cloak, Mai snuck out of her house and through the square, taking care to be as silent as possible to avoid alerting the guards. Slipping through the hidden service gate Azula had described, she carefully crept along the perimeter of the west wing, where she knew the private apartments were kept. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she arrived beneath the window of Zuko’s dressing room. She took a breath to steady herself, then began climbing the lattice to the window.

As Mai emerged on the other side, she was struck at once by a peculiar odor. It was a headache-inducing smell that was at once powerfully astringent and slightly metallic. She maneuvered carefully in the dark, avoiding the stacks of jars and canisters that had been left there by the doctors. Her nose led her unconsciously to the source of the smell: a series of basins placed upon a table by the door. Peering in with only the moonlight streaking in through the window, Mai could see piles of rags soaking in cloudy water. Bile rose in her throat and she forced it back down. Those rags were covered in Zuko’s blood.

The door was ajar; she slipped through silently.

Zuko was alone. A short candle flickered in its zinc holder on the far end of the room. The massive shadows it cast shuddered grotesquely. He was laying flat on his back with only a sheet covering his torso. The rest of the bed looked bare. From where she was standing, he appeared to be asleep.

When she got within a foot of his bedside, she whispered his name.

“Zuko?”

His right eye slowly fluttered open, and instinctively he moved as if he were trying to sit up, though he didn’t little more than flex the muscles in his neck and shoulders. He was so pale he almost glowed in the darkness; half his face was wrapped in several thick layers of linen gauze and rags.

“Shhhh…” whispered Mai as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder to keep from straining himself. “It’s just me.”

“Mai?” His voice was raspy and barely audible. The way he uttered her name—so much hope and amazement wrapped around that syllable—sent tears to the corners of her eyes.

“How did you…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered. Her voice was thick with emotion and her face suddenly burned.

“I just…” Mai felt a little sick again. “I just wanted to say…goodbye.”

A tear did escape her then. Zuko closed his eye. It was now or never. Mai sucked in a quick inhale and brought her lips to his.

Years from now, they would laugh about the profound absurdity of their situation. Zuko, a 13-year-old boy, high out of his mind on morphine and brain overheated by fever, in fear of either a painful death or a lifetime of banishment. Mai, a 12-year-old girl whose entire world crumbled in a single moment of cruelty, whose only hope lied in this 13-year-old boy who was either doomed or dying—it was anyone’s guess.

And this was their first kiss.

In a paradox of space and time, the kiss lingered for a blissful, mind-numbing eternity, and was over as soon as it started. Zuko’s lips, slightly chapped, clung to Mai’s ever-so-slightly as she pulled away.

As Mai’s face hovered above his in the dark, her hot breath against his tingling lips, he felt something smooth and warm enter his clammy palm.

“Please don’t forget me,” the darkness asked. The hot breath left, and she was gone.

The adrenaline rush of the kiss left along with her, and the heaviness of morphine pulled Zuko back down into the embrace of sleep.

* * *

Feeling lightheaded, Mai was not as careful exiting the room as she had been entering. She nearly fell over tripping over a table-leg but caught herself. She didn’t realize how hard she had been crying until she was back out of the window and the cold night air stung her wet face like a slap.

When Zuko awoke in the morning, the drugs had worn off and with the searing pain of re-awakened nerves also came the gift of mobility. Carefully, he lifted his hand to examine what he was holding: it was a slightly flattened stone, glossy and black, in the shape of a heart.

For the next thousand days of his life, it would never leave his person.

He would not forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist writing my take on the “Mai gives Zuko a heart-shaped stone before his banishment” story.


	2. Sweet Pea, for happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Izumi  
> Princess Izumi is not a bender, and that's OK. She's in good company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I offer you some Grownup-Gaang familial fluff in this trying time? Post-canon.

“I present to you the incredible, acrobatic duo: _BOOMS AND ZOOMS!_ ”

Ambassador—no, _Uncle_ —Sokka appeared from behind the skins over the doorway, Izumi and Bumi each over a shoulder as though they were no more than bedrolls. They’re faces were bright red and they were positively weeping with laughter.

Izumi had just turned three in the autumn, and Bumi’s birthday was just around the corner. It was the week of the Winter Solstice, a time of celebration and festivals in the Southern Water Tribe, commemorating a whole host of joyous events, primary among them the gradual return of sunlight. Katara and Sokka had planned the trip, wanting a little get together dove-tailing a reunion and a birthday trip for Bumi to visit his grandfather. Toph and Suki were each due in a few days.

Sokka and Aang made eye contact across the room. At once, Sokka tossed the two children—who were now screaming with glee—into the air, where two spheres of wind caught them. They were lowered gradually onto the furs on the floor, the wind dispersing just close enough that the kids were dropped an inch from the ground as they squealed with laughter. Sokka promptly collapsed beside them.

The other adults laughed and clapped.

“AGAIN!” Bumi shouted as soon as he caught his breath. Izumi joined in. “AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN!”

A smattering of ‘no’s’ came from assorted caregivers. Offspring were hefted off the floor and carried to the backroom for bed despite flailing limbs and whines of protest.

It had been an eventful day. Katara had managed to tame Izumi’s wild waves into a pair of braids (it was quite possibly the cutest thing Mai had ever seen) and dressed her in traditional Water Tribe garb. Standing next to Bumi in their parkas and boots, the two almost looked like brother and sister. The minute their feet had touched the snow at the Solstice Festival, they went on a rampage, demanding to play every game and taste every treat they encountered. With a little assistance from a certain Avatar, they returned home with armfuls of prizes, still hyper and sugar-high from all the stimulation and fare food. Sokka volunteered as tribute to wear them out for bed; he seemed to struggle a bit hauling himself off the ground.

Between the five adults, the two toddlers were brushed, cleaned, and wrestled into pajamas in no time flat. As was their right, the children demanded bedtime stories, and Aang enthusiastically indulged them, regaling them with tales of pirates and elephant koi as the others occasionally chimed in to provide further embellishment. The children fought valiantly, but it wasn’t long before their eyelids began to droop, and they fell asleep.

Candles were extinguished and foreheads were kissed as the adults filed out of the room. They returned to their places around the hearth and resumed their conversations, only a hair quieter than before.

When a lull appeared, Katara took a moment to lift her cup in Mai and Zuko’s direction.

“I just want to thank you for coming all the way down here; I know how busy you are.” Aang and Sokka nodded in agreement. Before Mai or Zuko could respond, Katara added: “It seems like Bumi is never as happy as when Izumi is around.”

That addendum struck something inside of Mai. The others continued speaking as if it were nothing out of the ordinary, but Mai simply could not get it out of her head.

Izumi herself was only three months old when Bumi was born. Even from infancy, when they were together, they stuck to one another like magnets, and separating them was always an ordeal. They were normally happy, well-adjusted children, but in the aftermath of parting they could seem downright despondent for a few days.

However, this was not the reason this comment gnawed at Mai. No; she fixated on it because the reason they were so close was the same reason they stuck to their Uncle Sokka like limpets whenever he was around; it was the same reason that as soon as they saw Aunt Suki, they aggressively monopolized her time like the were the sole reason for her existence.

They weren’t benders.

There was still time for that to change. Ursa told Mai when she was pregnant with Izumi that Zuko didn’t show the first signs of bending until her was almost four years old; not to worry, the Sages have been wrong before. But when the Sages gave the verdict that Izumi would most likely never firebend, it still bothered her. She had wanted her daughter to have something of her father, and initially firebending felt like the most obvious extension of him. Thankfully, that notion didn’t last long; bender or no, Izumi was _very much_ her father’s daughter, from her messy hair and serious eyes, to her mannerisms and inborn gentleness. Every day she grew, the more of Zuko Mai could see in her, and it brought her nothing but happiness to witness it.

Of course, Zuko didn’t care. He thought the idea that only a firebender could be Fire Lord was archaic and unnecessarily restrictive. He never doubted Izumi for a second: she would be spectacular, no matter what. Sometimes Mai envied his confidence.

The gentle squeeze of her husbands’ hand on hers brought her out of her thoughts. “Sokka’s leaving,” Zuko rumbled quietly in her ear.

It was now the grownup’s bedtime. Aang and Katara showed them where they kept futons, quilts, and cushions in a closet at the back of the house. As they returned to sitting room where they would be sleeping, Zuko caught Mai loitering outside of the children’s room, lifting the skin over their door with an extended index finger and peering inside. Dropping the quilt in his arms, he wandered to her and looked over her shoulder.

Izumi and Bumi were both laying side by side, bodies tilted toward each other. Bumi’s hair stuck out in every direction; Izumi’s was equally chaotic but curled at the ends. Their faces were relaxed in slumber, their cheeks rosy. Their little fists rested on the edge of the quilt that was tucked under their chins.

Mai let out a little sigh and Zuko wrapped his arms around her shoulders, tucking his face into her neck.

“She’s pretty amazing, huh?” he whispered against Mai’s throat. She could feel his lips smile.

“Yeah,” Mai agreed softly. “She is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Bumi and Izumi being best friends.


	3. Cornflower, for anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Alternate Universe  
> Zuko truly is a lucky guy: not only is he dating the hot goth girl who works at the bookstore, said hot goth girl has unrestricted access to an espresso machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jersey AU strikes again. I am a _menace_.
> 
> (This is technically a sequel to [Love is a Verb](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182851), but it can be read as a standalone).
> 
> (Content warning: brief alcohol mention).

Despite having been on his feet, in class, or driving for _hours_ now, Zuko was not truly awake until he swallowed his first mouthful of the Americano Mai had made for him.

“Feeling better?” she asked from across the table, a pock-marked and pen-graffitied surface that had once graced a kitchen. She was refilling the sugar jar and taking in Zuko’s rapturous expression with amusement.

She laughed a little as he took another sip and moaned in pleasure as it slipped past his palate.

“ _Much_ better,” he said with a dreamy sigh. “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this. All I had this morning was yesterdays coffee reheated in the microwave.”

Mai emitted a ‘ _blech_ ’ in disgust and turned back to the espresso machine to resume its daily maintenance before the customers started drifting in at noon.

Mai worked at The Sinking Stacks, a used-bookshop so-called because most of the shop’s stock was kept downstairs, in the sprawling, labyrinthine basement that crept beneath the street. For decades, it served as a hub for a diverse set of people, often housing art shows, concerts, and political meetings. Mai adored it; everyone was an oddball and she never felt more at home.

Zuko worked (and lived) next door. His Uncle Iroh owned a bar called the Jasmine Dragon that, in recent years, had gained quite a reputation in the tristate area after receiving glowing reviews in local papers and magazines. Working there was actually great for Zuko; it gave him plenty of time to go to classes in the morning and Iroh was generous with his time off when he needed it. There was also something quite nice about being able to make small-talk with people without the pressure of keeping up a conversation; more often than not, he could just fade into the background as he poured beer and wiped down tables.

Zuko rented an apartment on the second floor overlooking the High Street. The main strip in the city was sandwiched between a major inter-county highway to the south and an interstate road heading northeast; in the evenings and on the weekends, it got pretty busy, and he was thankful for the work.

Mai hummed a little to herself as she dumped fresh beans into the reservoir of the coffee grinder. Zuko watched her and sipped his coffee, admiring her from under his hair. Mai had always preferred to wear baggy clothes—today’s ensemble included baggy men’s work pants that sat low on her hips, an old CKY t-shirt she’d had since freshman year of high school with a thin, long-sleeved shirt underneath for added coverage. As was typical for her, everything was black. Her hair was up in a utilitarian bun; her left ear glinted with about a dozen little pieces of silver.

“I have a box to unload downstairs,” she said as she gave the counter a final wipe-down. “Wanna keep me company?”

Zuko was on his feet at once, and while he mentally kicked himself for seeming too eager, he felt a sense of something akin to accomplishment when he saw how pleased Mai looked.

The stairwell to the basement was covered in posters advertising local shows, prints from local and famous artists, and a random assortment of postcards and stickers. The temperature dropped at least ten degrees as they descended, and the comforting smell of old books permeated the damp funk of the subterranean room.

Zuko followed her through three different rooms until they reached “The Sci-Fi Zone,” its own little grotto of battered paperbacks ranging from the world-renowned to the painfully obscure. A box of books, all freshly sorted and priced, sat on a stool, the novels patiently waiting to be placed in their new homes upon the sagging shelves. A dusty inflatable alien peeked out from between the ceiling and the top-most shelf.

They worked together in silence for about ten minutes; Zuko had helped her do this before and knew the system for organizing the books. (He’d even worked a few hours under the table when things got busy and management needed a few extra-hands; he was basically an honorary employee at this point).

“I was thinking maybe we stay in tonight and watch a movie or something. I’m not really in the mood to go to Philly after all,” she said as she placed three books in _Spec Fic M-R_.

“Are you sure?” Zuko knew she was changing their plans because he’d had a late night. Their friend Jet had thrown a house party and his younger sister, Azula, had gotten thoroughly trashed. He was summoned to take her home and wound up driving around for over an hour with her just talking. Zuko was actually happy to have had the chance to spend the time with her, but unfortunately when all was said and done, he only got four hours of sleep between being out late with her and waking up early for an 8 am statistics class.

Zuko felt a little guilty about all of this. Going to the art show in the city had been Mai’s idea, and while it was sometimes hard to tell exactly how excited she was for something, he was under the impression she had been looking forward to this.

“I’m positive,” she said, removing the last few books from the box. “Zuko: I don’t care _how_ I spend my time with you, as long as I get the opportunity,” her voice was soft. She leaned back against the bookshelf and looked at him.

They looked at each other for about a minute. Zuko put his coffee down without breaking eye contact and leaned in to kiss her. Her hands came up to his chest, her palms warm through his shirt. She used him to balance as she raised herself slightly on the balls of her feet to get a better angle. His tongue grazed her lower lip and she pulled away.

“I’ll swing by the rental store after work.” She was blushing and slightly breathless. “Your place?” She lifted an eyebrow in question.

“Sure,” he said, equally dazed.

They held each other’s gaze for another moment, then Mai looked at her watch.

“It’s almost noon.” She sounded a little sad.

He nodded, retrieved his cup, and began walking back toward the stairs.

“See you at six?” he asked as his foot met the first step.

“See you at six,” she affirmed with a small smile. She couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to make sure Zuko finally got his damn coffee.
> 
> (BTW I have a [tumblr](https://korvidaee.tumblr.com/). Come yell about random bullshit with me).


	4. Marigold, for fidelity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Redemption  
> It's never enough just to say that you're sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire Lord Zuko is just a teensy bit of a mess. Also, there is a little bit of time-jumping.
> 
> (Content warning: alcohol consumption).

He liked to tell himself that it had started, like so many things, with the best of intentions. She had moved away from the capital and was living in the Earth Kingdom. He hadn’t seen her in nearly a year. He just wanted to make sure she was OK. This was a friendly gesture. It was expected. Innocent, even.

In reality, he was lonely. And selfish. And…maybe just a _bit_ drunk.

Zuko pushed the weights to the ends of the paper and inked a name in the far corner.

 _Mai_.

* * *

The letter had been short and mostly formal. He asked her how she was in Ba Sing Se. Did she like city? How was her new job? (Michi had told Ursa, who in turn told Zuko, that she had gotten a job as a research assistant). He told her about everyone: how Ty Lee, Suki, and Sokka were at the capital, what he heard from Aang, Katara, and Toph from their respective jobs and missions. How mother, Noren and Kiyi were doing.

The only thing he mentioned about himself—and this he blamed _entirely_ on the soju—was that he missed her.

He folded the paper, dripped a small puddle of wax in the center, and pressed his personal seal onto it.

He ordered an attendant to mail it before he sobered up and changed his mind.

* * *

To his surprise, he received a prompt response.

Mai had answered every question he asked, frankly and openly. She didn’t like Ba Sing Se anymore than she liked the capital; cities, especially those with rigid hierarchies, were unbearably dull no matter where they were located. (Zuko smirked at that). She told him that she loved her new job. She was currently working under the new head of anthropology to create a report on linguistic variations throughout the Earth Kingdom. ( _“Don’t roll your eyes—I promise it’s actually very interesting”_ ). She responded to every mention of their friends—she had been in contact with Ty Lee and Suki and wished her best to everyone else.

She concluded her letter thus: _“I miss you, too. Don’t be a stranger, Your Highness.”_

He read the entire letter right to left three times, then paused a fourth time to simply admire her neat characters and even rows. (That was a royal education for you).

He pulled himself from his desk long enough to procure more paper, a cup, and a new bottle of soju, then busied himself with composing his reply.

* * *

It continued like this for months. They exchanged questions and answers, morsels of their everyday lives rendered in black ink. Sometimes Mai would send a copy of an article to him if he expressed interest in it. He would sometimes send her drafts of speeches or reports he was working on to gain her input (she always had a way with words that he admired, and she never hesitated to provide valuable suggestions).

Over time, a certain intimacy emerged in their letters. It was subtle and almost unnoticed at first, but eventually becoming quite obvious over time. Here would be an inside joke from their childhoods, or an offhand reference to something only they would know about. There would be a comment that lingered on the border of friendly encouragement and…something else. _Flirtation_ , perhaps?

It drove Zuko a little bit crazy, but he cherished every cryptic phrase and longed for more.

On his 21st birthday, he received the completed and bound linguistics report from the Official Press of Ba Sing Se University. Mai’s name was embossed in crisp detail beside the title “Senior Research Assistant.” Accompanying the report was a small crate of figs and dates (fruit he hadn’t tasted since he was a child, and knew would not have come cheap), and a note:

_“If you have any upcoming trips to the city, you should let me know ahead of time. I would love to see you.”_

Zuko made his plans accordingly.

* * *

The trip to Ba Sing Se required a ship and a train. The train was new; the lines had only been laid a few months prior and Zuko would be the first head of state to travel upon them. They reserved eight train cars for the royal procession, which felt like entirely too much. But this was progress, he was told. This was the future.

It hadn’t occurred to Zuko that the future would be so _unbearably_ inefficient, however.

The train vacillated between short stretches of speed and agonizing expanses of time where they moved at a snail’s pace, or not at all. Whether moving or sitting still, a gnawing sensation ate away at Zuko’s stomach. The anxiety of seeing Mai again was more powerful than any nervousness he felt about meeting with the Earth King and his generals or making official appearances in the city.

It was slightly embarrassing.

* * *

Upon receipt of his gift, he had immediately dictated a thank you message to Mai, emphasizing his excitement to read the report (he spent every free moment the following day tearing through it and making notes of things he wanted to mention to her about it), and adding the post script that he would be in the Earth Kingdom in a few weeks and was awaiting confirmation from the Earth King as to the specific date and time.

As always, she responded quickly, her address neatly nestled within, along with instructions to call on her when they had arrived.

 _“We can have tea_ ,” she had written.

Zuko had stared at that line for an uninterrupted four minutes.

* * *

Everything was wet. Rain was rare in this part of the Earth Kingdom; some combination of altitude and arid currents coming over the desert was to blame, apparently. But it did happen sometimes. The city looked glossy and its denizens looked damp. All the dirt streets and paths had become treacherous in their newly slicked state.

Zuko would never get over the uncanny strangeness of being welcomed into Ba Sing Se. The identical sets of greeter girls who guided Zuko and his attendants and guards to the inner ring and prattled endlessly on the train as they passed landmarks. It stood in stark contrast to the relative freedom he had living here with Uncle Iroh. If you were of any importance at all, once you stepped foot in Ba Sing Se, you gained the distinct impression you had been put on a very short leash.

Not long after the Fire Lord had arrived in his suite at the palace, an attendant returned from calling on Mai.

She had invited him to have tea with her at her home tomorrow afternoon.

The gnawing feeling had left, and now he simply felt like most of his guts had been replaced with ice. He desperately wanted something to drink, but instead made himself busy preparing for the next six hours of meetings.

* * *

Zuko’s mindset entering the middle ring the following day was not all that different from when he had entered the capital to dual Azula five years prior. Some small part of him was convinced that, were he to fuck up too egregiously, he would most likely be killed.

It was a ridiculous notion, but he was ridiculous sometimes.

Mai lived near the University. It was clean and most of the roads were paved. The architecture of the houses and business shared some degree of aesthetic cohesion, mimicking that of the school. Her apartment building housed a large number of University staff; it was modest, but certainly nicer than the structure Zuko and Iroh had lived in during their time in the city. As he and his men entered the courtyard, Zuko paused and looked around at the crisscrossing lines of laundry blowing merrily in the spring breeze. It seemed that moment the rain had stopped, the tenants had rushed to resume their chores.

Glancing up in front of him between underwear and towels, a young woman in green University robes stood on the second-floor balcony. Her black hair was long and straight; she wore a small black cap that indicated her position as assisting staff.

It was Mai.

To anyone else who might have seen her, she would have looked expressionless. Zuko knew, however, that at the very corners of her mouth hid a secret smile. His heart fluttered violently when he saw it.

She angled her head toward the building, and then turned away and walked inside. Zuko realized his guards were looking at him expectantly and he awkwardly walked toward the building.

* * *

Mai poured his tea—she insisted.

“You’re my guest,” she had said. “It’s only right.”

The first thing they discussed was her research. He asked her questions about the project outright and the process of completing it; Mai’s mind, brilliantly logical, had taken immense satisfaction in uncovering patterns in the data she collected and helping to weave it into comprehensible language. Her boss, the anthropology professor, and the rest of her team would be presenting the report before a government conference at the end of the summer. The Earth King had apparently been toying around with the idea of developing unified teaching standards across the Earth Kingdom, she explained. Her research had been commission by an exploratory committee set up by the palace. The hope was that, by understanding the differences in language and dialect throughout the Kingdom, they’d have a better understanding of how to implement standardized spelling and a singular literacy curriculum. Apparently, there was some pushback from the “Cultural Authorities;” they believed that the more educated the populace was, the harder they would be to control.

(Zuko laughed at this. Clearly, they had never spent any time in the Fire Nation: they were the most literate and best-educated people on the planet, and they swallowed propaganda without any hesitation whatsoever).

As the conversation migrated into personal territory, the flow with which they spoke earlier became more stilted and tense. They talked about their families, how nice it was that Michi and Ursa could spend time together again, how relieved they were that Kiyi and Tom-Tom were supporting each other after the kidnapping ordeal.

And then Mai glanced at her nails and casually asked Zuko: “So—are you seeing anyone?”

The Fire Lord choked on his tea. He coughed and coughed, panic pushing in on him from every direction. He knew the topic would be broached eventually, but he had been desperately hoping he’d be able to stave it off just a little bit longer. Mai watched him compose himself with half-amusement, half-concern.

“No,” he rasped, throat ragged from all the coughing. “I’m not, though I think the ministers will riot if I don’t start soon,” he pushed out a strenuous little laugh.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he risked another sip. “They frequently remind me that I am now my father’s age when he married my mother.”

Mai hummed in response.

“I need to keep reminding them that I’m not interested in forcing someone to marry me against their will.” His voice sounded bitter to his ears.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Not right now, no.” She picked up her teacup, then added “there was someone, before, but it didn’t work out. I’m taking…a break.”

They both sat in silence as they drank their tea, waiting to see who would speak next. Mai put her cup down and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, and regrading him a deceptively impassive face—but her eyes were like scalpels, and they glanced over him as though she could dissect him right there with her mind.

“Is that why you’re here?” Her voice was practiced in its evenness, but there was a hint of something dangerous there. “To tell me that?”

“No,” he said simply. “I’m here because I miss you.”

About a dozen emotions flickered across her eyes in the span of a second. Then the mask was back again.

“And there is something I want to give you, though you needn’t feel obligated to accept it,” he added quickly.

Now Mai wore her wariness openly. Her spine straightened and she leveled a penetrating look directly into his good eye.

“This gift you brought… it wouldn’t come with a _question_ attached, would it?” The monotone and evenness were gone. Anger was present, and there was a hint of threat in her tone, alongside an unspoken _you wouldn’t dare_.

“No, no, nothing like _that_ ,” he nervously placated her. He pulled a thin, indigo rectangle from under his outer robe.

“It does come with a _promise_ , however.”

He leaned forward and extended the box to her. She glanced at it, then at him with an arched eyebrow, and delicately lifted it from his fingers.

The box was light; Mai seemed intrigued. She let it lay in her palm for a moment, simply examining it before her. She lifted the lid gingerly, and her eyes widened in genuine surprise when she was greeted with a gleaming white dagger upon pale blue silk.

It was made of a continuous piece of something bone-white and semi-pearlescent. The handle was covered in the softest, most delicate scrolls and spirals, and looked smooth to the touch. The blade shone in the afternoon light, whispering sweetly of its potential lethality.

As soon as Mai took is out of its box, she instinctively notched in between her middle and ring finger, blade aloft. It felt so perfectly natural and was weighted beautifully; she desperately wished she had a suitable target to see how fast it flew.

“Zuko—what is this?” She sounded slightly amazed.

“Arctic phantom abalone,” he explained quietly. “I found a piece while I was in the Northern Water Tribe on a diplomacy trip over the summer. Sokka told me they made excellent blades…” he trailed off as he watched Mai twirl it between her fingers, mesmerized more by her hands the weapon she was wielding.

“I haven’t been doing a lot of knife throwing these days,” she murmured. “I might be getting rusty.”

“Well, we can’t be having that.” He knew he probably looked like an idiot; he couldn’t help but smile. She looked so incredible with that knife.

“And what is the promise that comes with this?” Her eyes snapped back to his. He leaned forward and took a steadying breath. He looked at the teapot as he spoke.

“I’ve realized a few things over the years. After you left, after I found my mother…after the assassination attempts—” Mai winced at the use of the plural there—“I have realized that there is no faster route to a lonely and early grave than by keeping secrets. I do not want to die, Mai,” he said, finally bringing his eyes to hers.

“I do not want to live alone, either.”

The mask was slipping as Mai’s eyes shone with…concern? Confusion? Slowly, she put the dagger to the side with the forgotten box, keeping her eyes on him, silently urging him to finish his thought.

“My promise is this: whatever this is, whatever we have,” he gestured with his hand between them, “I will keep nothing from you again. Whatever you wish to know from me, I will tell you. There will be no more secrets.”

They both took a deep breath.

Afraid of losing his nerve, he pressed on: “Not a day has passed since you left that I didn’t think about how I wronged you, and not a day has gone by that I didn’t think about how I could set things right.” He gestured toward her with open hands. “I offer you this in the hopes that we can make amends.”

His words hung in the air. Her eyes were unfocused, looking somewhere over his left shoulder.

“You’re promising to stop keeping secrets from me.” Her voice was even and emotionless once again. He knew her well enough; her mind was probably racing.

“Yes.”

“And what am I expected to do in return for such a generous offer?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

She stared hard at his face for a moment.

“What if I don’t want the knife?” Her face was serious but there was a slightly teasing tone in her voice.

“You can do whatever you want with it, it’s yours,” he answered calmly. Then he smirked. “Hell, you could throw it _at me_ for all I care.”

Mai laughed.

“I’ve already committed treason once; I don’t want to get in the habit of it.” They both laughed at that.

When the laughter died, they were met once again with a strange silence. It was less tense this time, but still uncomfortable.

“May I ask you a question, in honor of your new spirit of openness?”

“Absolutely.” She looked down and pulled a loose thread from her sleeve.

“Do you still love me?”

Zuko felt a little stunned by the bluntness of the question, but his answer was so immediate he didn’t even think about it before it was out of his mouth.

“Yes.” There was no question. He had never been more certain of something in his entire life. “I never stopped.”

Mai leaned back and wrapped her arms around herself again. It was a defensive gesture. Her face had a pinched expression, one Zuko recognized from when they were children as the face she’d make when she was trying very hard not to shout or cry.

“What do you want?” Her voice was dark. Dangerous anger lurked in the shadow of her words.

“Only that you know my promise to you. I am content with whatever you are willing to share with me.”

“No, Zuko,” she was exasperated. “What do _you_ want?”

He frowned at that. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“You told me there would be _no more secrets_.”

Zuko closed his eyes and sighed.

“You.” It was a hushed confession. “I only want you. To be with you. If you wanted that, too.”

He slowly opened them again.

Mai was still tightly wrapped around herself, a fist brought up to cover her mouth.

“Mai, you don’t have to—”

She cut him off with a raised hand. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and she breathed deeply. He dropped his gaze to give her time.

“Zuko?”

His head shot up.

“Give me some time, OK?” Her voice came out hoarse.

He blinked in confusion.

“What are you—?”

“I want that, too,” she said, her voice barely audible over Zuko’s heart pounding in his ears.

He was at once overcome with intense hopefulness and gratitude. He smiled broadly.

“Does that mean—?”

“It’s gonna take some _time_ , Zuko,” she said firmly, a warning tone in her voice. “But I’m willing to try.”

He exhaled, sagging into his seat. He brought a hand up to brush back his hair from his face.

“OK,” he said. He felt like he was floating. Mai had a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

As Mai stood up to get more tea, he looked up at her, goofy smile back on his face.

“Where do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make him work for it, Mai.


	5. Oleander, for caution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Reunion  
> Tread lightly, young hearts. Things are rarely as simple as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set just prior to their appearance in “The Awakening.”  
> (“Going Home Again” is also referenced in this chapter).

_Tap. Tap, tap._

The sound of Mai’s knock broke the stillness of Zuko’s compartment. The sound immediately made Zuko’s pulse quicken. His straightened his spine and cleared his throat.

“Come in.”

She slipped in from behind the iron door, eyes glinting in the dim light. 

It was late. Midnight wasn’t far off, and all but the night patrol was asleep. Azula and Ty Lee must’ve retired to their rooms.

The only adults on the ship were soldiers. The extent of command came from a fourteen and sixteen-year-old. There was no one here to tell them they couldn’t do…whatever they were doing. 

Everything felt slow and dream-like as Mai quietly padded across the room, feet silent on the mats, and came to sit beside him on his futon. Zuko was tense with anticipation. She tilted her head as she got a good look at him in the dimness.

“Hi.” Her voice was low and quiet. She reached up and brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. He swallowed.

And then they were on each other, kissing fiercely before either of them could piece together who had had started it first. As Mai’s lips slid against his, warm and insistent, Zuko’s mind quickly began to dissolve into mush.

They had never been _this_ alone before. Sure, they’d kiss here and there whenever they could sneak away, holing up in dark corridors and unoccupied spaces on the ship’s deck. But there were always soldiers around, or Azula and Ty Lee trying to interrupt them or monopolize their time. This, though; this was utterly new and transgressive. Ever since Mai first kissed him in Ba Sing Se, it felt like a dam had burst; years of affectionless solitude had left them too desperate to ignore each other once they crossed that threshold. When they had these private moments, it seemed like Mai couldn’t keep her hands off him, and while he certainly wasn’t complaining, it never stopped amazing him, either.

Her tongue pushed past his lips and all coherent thought left him completely. A hand came up and cupped his cheek, her thumb gently brushing the scarred skin under his left eye. His palms smoothed over the soft wool of her vest at her waist.

When her tongue ran over his molars, he released an embarrassing noise. She smoothed her left hand over his chest, and he swore he could feel her palm burning through the four layers of fabric between them.

He dragged a hand up to the back of her head, angling just so. They were straining against each other; Mai was practically in Zuko’s lap. The kiss deepened, their noses bumped, and Mai let out a low moan into his mouth. 

As if shocked by the sound, they pulled apart, panting.

The little furnace burned merrily in the corner. They were both wearing several winter layers designed the to keep the heat in—Zuko felt like he might die of heat stroke.

Mai’s hand was still on his cheek. Dazed, he leaned forward and placed a gentle peck on her lips. She smiled and pushed a messy lock of hair behind his ear.

“Captain says we’ll be home by tomorrow night,” she murmured against his cheek. “I’m ready to get off this damn ship.”

They both laughed a little at that.

“Aren’t your parents in Omashu?” Zuko had taken the hand she had placed on his chest and was weaving his fingers in between hers.

Her eyes met his in a mischievous look.

“Apparently, our old house is still vacant on the square. Azula thought I should stay there, all by my lonesome.” The spot where their knees were touching felt hot. Zuko licked his lips.

“Well, we can’t be having that.” His lips grazed the shell of her ear, and she trembled slightly in response. “I don’t want you to be lonely anymore.”

Mai pulled away and scooted back to get a better look at him. She tilted her head back, her fringe casting a shadow over eyes in the subtle light.

“How do you know I was lonely?” she asks. There was a playful hint of challenge in her tone, but her face was cast in curious skepticism.

Zuko shrugged and reached over to put his hand on her knee. “Just a guess. I remember, when we were kids, you used to tell me that your parents were always busy. It used to seem like the only time I saw you around other kids was when you were with Ty Lee and Azula; every other time, you were alone.” His thumb made small circles over her knee as he spoke, his voice circumspect and quiet.

“Has that changed?” he asked.

Both of their eyes were fixed in where his hand was stroking her knee. She gently took his hand in both of hers, turning it palm-up and carefully tracing up along the visible vein at his wrist and its neighboring tendons with her index and middle fingers. The touch was light and ticklish, but he didn’t move to stop her digits sneaking beneath the cuff of his sleeve.

“No,” she said finally. “That hasn’t changed.”

Zuko shifted forward and placed a hot palm on her cheek. He kissed delicately, trying to transmit some comfort to her. The kiss stayed chaste; it was simply a reminder, not a request.

As they parted, the corners of her mouth quirked up.

“Do you remember when I came to visit, before you left?” He nodded. “Do you still have that piece of obsidian I gave you? The one shaped like a heart?”

His right eye widened in understanding. He leaned back and unfastened the closure of first his cloak, then the over-shirt underneath. He slipped his hand beneath the fabric to a hidden pocket at his side, and fished out the stone in question, warmed through with heat of his body.

Nothing hindered the grin that spreads over Mai’s face. 

“You remembered,” she whispered in amazement.

“How could I forget?” he smiled at her. “You made me promise.”

They both look at the little black heart in the palm of his hand. When he was thirteen, the stone seemed larger; looking at it now in his outstretched hand, one could imagine that it had shrunk. It was not unlike the distance of time between them, shrinking smaller and smaller as they circled back to orbit each other once again. The circle was closing. He was going home.

The thought evoked warring emotions in Zuko—the victorious glow of his homecoming and all it entailed battled with the apprehension that crept in the periphery that he simply couldn’t shake, hovering over him like clouds heavy with rain. He gave his head a gentle shake and halted the spiral of thought.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled, the shadow of his thoughts causing some the earlier warmth he felt to flee him. Even in that hot and stuffy room and under all those clothes, part of him felt chilled and unpleasantly exposed.

“May I stay?” She brought her eyes to meet his, a little pleading look that sent a painful pang to his heart.

By way of answering, Zuko kicked off his shoes and pulled her to him, nuzzling into her hair as he lowered them down to lay on the futon. He tucked her head into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her back gently. All the while, his mind was racing.

She fell asleep easily in the circle of his arms. The steady, even sound of her breathing and the cozy limpness of her body were Zuko’s eventual undoing, leading him finally into a light, brittle sleep that ended entirely too quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It simply felt sacrilegious to participate in Maiko Week without giving these two a make-out interlude, you know? Also, I tip my hat to everyone who can write kissing _well_ ; you are truly gifted.


	6. Borage, for courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Dawn  
> Mai and Zuko contemplate their next big step as the sun rises over the capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-canon (set about 8 years after Sozin's comet).

It was early. The faint, pale pink light that presaged dawn had only just begun to creep over the walls of the caldera. Despite the momentary coolness of night, the air was burdened with a certain heaviness, the moisture serving as a warning for the oppressive humidity that would be impossible to ignore by mid-morning.

On the rear-end of the residential wing of the palace were balconies that looked out onto the eastern side of the capital. From the upper-most balcony, one could see over the palace walls out onto the rest of the city as the pastel light began touching the roofs of buildings and tops of trees.

Most of the visible homes were still dark, their inhabitants clearly still asleep. It seemed the entire city was deep in somnolent stillness; the palace, however, was abuzz with activity. Ordinarily, there wouldn’t be that many staff in the palace at this hour, but this was a moment of special circumstances.

After all, it wasn’t everyday that there was a royal wedding to prepare for.

Mai sipped her water and watched the light illuminate the mountain, trying in vain to urge her mind into a state of calm despite her pounding heartbeat.

She had slept fitfully the night before, due in part because Zuko hadn’t been beside her. (Palace staff had turned a blind eye to the fact that they shared a room for over a year now; despite this, the very notion that they should share a bed the night before their wedding had suddenly become a bridge too far and everyone was suddenly too scandalized to allow it). However, she knew the real culprit for the bulk of her insomnia was nerves. Today was not simply her wedding day to Zuko—which would be nerve wracking enough on its own—but was also her coronation as Fire Lady. She would be making vows not only not only to the man she loved, but to the entire nation, and the rest of the world would be paying close attention.

Mai took another sip of water in the vain hope that it would quell the sour feeling in her stomach.

No matter how much her mother and Ursa had tried to soothe her, she could never shake the feeling that more rode on this marriage than simply love and happiness. Politics, as always, wormed its way into everything.

She heard his foot fall before his voice.

“Morning, beautiful,” Zuko said as he came up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing her temple. His voice was still thick with sleep.

“Did you sleep OK?” he asked into her hair.

“Not really,” she responded. He gave her a gentle squeeze. “What about you?”

He huffed out a laugh.

“I think I finally fell asleep maybe two hours before the servants work me.” He groaned quietly as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Her body was unyielding in his arms. Sensing her discomfort, her placed a peck on her ear.

“It’s gonna be a long day, but it’ll be worth it,” he murmured into her neck, moving down to place another kiss, this time on the exposed skin of her collar bone.

He was right on both counts. Ever so slightly, Mai relaxed in his arms.

Gradually, the light crept across their field of vision as the sun began to peek over the horizon, spilling ever-more vibrant light onto the island and over the mountains. Zuko gave her one final squeeze, one final kiss on the top of her head, and then stepped away from her to twist and stretch his spine. Mai turned to look at him.

Zuko was standing in the still shadowy end of the balcony. He was shirtless, wearing only loose, wrinkled trousers that sat low on his hips. The jagged scar on his solar plexus was just visible. His hair was loose; the inky-black locks framed his face and hung down over his chest.

His body was a study in visual contrast. Desire stepped out of the shadows of Mai’s subconscious and made its presence known. She took another sip of her water.

“What?” he asked. His voice was playful but also self-conscious as his fiancée raked her gaze slowly over him.

“Aren't I allowed to admire my husband?”

“ _Almost_ husband,” he corrected in a low tone. He stepped over to stand beside her, threading an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. She hummed and leaned into his side as they looked out over the railing.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted in a hushed voice. “I mean, I’m _excited_ , but I’m also nervous. I don’t want to screw this up.”

His large hand was spread over her stomach. His touch was having a grounding effect on her, causing the flurry of thoughts in her head to become a little more organized.

“That’s understandable; it’s a big day for you. But don’t worry, I’ll be with you. We’re gonna do this together.”

Brilliant golden light drenched the western end of the city, bouncing off the slate of the rooftops and the surface of the lakes and ponds. A flock of white birds flew over, their song breaking the silence. The breeze had left them, and the heat of summer had begun to permeate the air.

“How long did you have to prepare for your coronation?” she asked Zuko.

They were both surprised by the sudden laugh that burst forth form him.

“Oh _Agni_ ,” he chuckled. “Maybe…two hours? By the time the doctors finally released me, it was nearly midnight and there were maybe thirty different generals standing around waiting for me. They were scared out of their minds and demanding information. Aang was there, but they wanted to hear from _me_. So, we spent the night trying to explain to them that the war was over now, that Ozai was not their leader anymore, and that we weren’t being invaded or anything—they had _wild_ imaginations.” He laughed again. “I remember the sun was already coming up by the time the ministers had finally gotten to me and were explaining that I needed to be coronated by mid-morning to try and smooth over the unrest that was already starting. They were worried about a power-vacuum. Next thing I knew, you were there helping me get dressed.” He placed a kiss on her head. “I believe I had _just_ started thinking about what I would say when you showed up.”

“Luckily for you, Mai, you’re not expected to give a speech.”

Ursa stepped through the doorway, already dressed. She already looked a little exasperated, her smile wry.

“The servants are looking everywhere for you two.” She pointed at her son. “ _You_ need to find your uncle. Mai, honey, you’re coming with me. Michi is waiting.”

Mai and Zuko glanced at each other as they parted, nervousness once again etched all over their features.

“Don’t worry,” Ursa said as they joined her at the door. “It’s only a few hours. It’ll be over before you know it.” She graced them both with a softer smile before she led Mai away.

The sun shone over the capital as it continued its climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me. One more chapter to go!  
> (If you wanna hang out and hear about what I'm working on next, you can find me on [tumblr](https://korvidaee.tumblr.com/)).


	7. Hyacinth, for playfulness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Free Day/Masks  
> Selected memories: an epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different..
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck around. You're the best and I am forever grateful for you ❤
> 
> (Content warning: major character death mentioned).

As the days and weeks piled together, the formation of months and years grew tall like hills and mountains.

There were esoteric theories that postulated time was less of a sequential record but rather a state of perception that overlapped and intersected states of being. Every you, that you were, are, and will be, existed simultaneously, always and forever. That what we understood as the passing of time was, to put it simply, only one way of looking at it.

If there was anything valuable at all to the years of banishment and toil, learning the process of sliding into the view of another was a lesson to be cherished. The voice of The Avatar, forever fourteen and sunny, could be conjured at will: “ _Have you considered a different perspective_?”

* * *

She spins something blue and white and oblong between her hands.

“ _Explain to me how you managed to see anything wearing this_?” Her left eyebrow is arched, her head inclined backward, the pale column of her throat exposed. Merely a few ways one can ask a question.

“ _It’s easy once you get used to it_.” His voice is twenty-eight, but his heart is a few years older. “ _Besides, that’s not the one I wore; that one is at the bottom of Lake Laogai_.”

Now the mask is on her face. She is slipping his broadswords from him and he is letting her because he loves her. She moves away and he follows.

“ _Careful, Fire Lord. I could be dangerous_.” He laughs because she is. She is so many things. Dangerous, but also benevolent. The multitudes of her are contradictory in the most magnificent ways, thrilling and transgressive and so wonderfully singular.

* * *

Here she is smiling, a smile more precious than any diamond in its rarity and brilliance. He holds onto each smile and tucks them into his heart like the treasured secret they are.

Blossoms swirl in the wind. A gust loosens her hair, blows up her skirts and sleeves, and she shoots him that secret smile over her shoulder.

And he is sixteen and she is kissing him in Ba Sing Se, and he can finally kiss her back.

* * *

Now she is twelve and she is above him and crying because she knows he is leaving. Then she is fifteen and beneath him and crying because he is leaving, though she doesn’t know that yet.

Eventually, he is nineteen and she has left him, and no tears come, no matter how badly he wants them to.

Finally, he is eighty-one and she is never coming back. A lifetime of unshed tears rise up to greet him like a tsunami of agony, and yet in some small part of him, gratitude firmly remains.

* * *

He supposes he could blame his cartographic impulses on his childhood in empire, but sometimes he wishes he could put a pin in every sigh, string a line between her laughs and chart the topography of her joy from a birds-eye-view.

They are sweating.

It is summer, and Ember Island once again has them in its sticky grasp. A clutch of children, one of them theirs, run and scramble around in the sun, the surf keeping time to their buoyant, youthful stupidity.

She is thirty-seven. She has a fan in her fist, and she is looking at him like she is starving and he is a banquet.

With the sharp jerk of her wrist, the fan snaps open and her sweaty cheek grazes his ear. As she whispers to him behind the painted paper of all she wants to do with him—to him—when they are finally alone, he is truly astonished steam doesn’t begin rising from his body.

And then they are alone, and they are sweating, and when that map comes back into his mind at the cusp of sleep, he decides her smiles are states and her laughs are capital cities.

* * *

He is on her now and looking into the eyeholes of the mask, so like the ones he has peered out of half a dozen times before.

He pulls it from her face. Whether what they were doing was dancing or sparring was up to interpretation.

“ _Kiss me,_ ” she commands. She is still holding his swords.

“ _Where?_ ” And she inclines her head again, half a smile, more lethal than any blade, bared as surely as the flesh of her neck.

He needs no further instructions.

They are learning it all for the first time and yet they understand it completely.

Their seconds and minutes were being scooped up and manicured like sandcastles waiting to be knocked down.

* * *

And who was to say, then, with all these possibilities existing in harmony on some cosmic plane, that two people could not, in fact, have been made for each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half inspired by a lengthy, drunk conversation about the nature of time, half inspired by the song "Anything We Want" by Fiona Apple. 
> 
> Thanks again if you've followed along from the start. I plan to begin posting again sometime after the new year. Until then, stay safe out there ❤

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Maikoween 🎃  
> Comments are always appreciated.


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